


Singing in the Shower

by Ihateallergies



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Not Beta Read, POV Bucky Barnes, PWP, Shower Sex, Smut, T'chucky - Freeform, winter panther - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihateallergies/pseuds/Ihateallergies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Challa takes care of Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing in the Shower

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This isn't the Bucky POV story I was thinking of last time. It just sort of happened.

T’Challa’s shower is bigger than the bedroom of Bucky’s first apartment. Hell, he could’ve fit his entire apartment in T’Challa’s bathroom.

He doesn’t know why these thoughts, these memories come to him unbidden as the king of Wakanda explores his mouth with his own, but they do. T’Challa must sense him losing focus because he pulls himself back and stares into Bucky’s eyes, water beading in his eyelashes.

T’Challa is, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. His eyes are dark and round, his lips are full and soft and the evidence of his years of training as the Black Panther are literally just under his fingertips. He pulls himself back into this moment fully because he wants to feel everything, and T’Challa has this amazing talent of making him feel good. Better than he’s felt in a long, long time.

Bucky follows T’Challa’s mouth with his own, not that the king went too far in the first place. He has Bucky pressed against the heated wall, but somehow he doesn’t feel trapped, just secure. Bucky’s new vibranium arm is still being constructed, so T’Challa kindly steadies both of them so Bucky can trace along the planes of his body as they kiss. Every part of his body is firm yet soft. Bucky’s favorite part is his ass. He really wishes he had two hands right now, because kneading only one half of his backside is only somewhat glorious.

T’Challa kisses along Bucky’s jawline, stopping at the hollow of his throat to work a spot there with his tongue. He just tilts his head to the side and sighs because the juxtaposition of the softness his mouth and the scrape of his beard is too amazing to ignore.

He’s hard, and so is T’Challa if the poking in his hip is anything to go by. T’Challa scrapes his nails against Bucky’s chest and thrusts shallowly against him like he can’t help the movement. It’s not much but it’s enough to send sparks through his whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet he needs more.

“T’Challa,” he whispers almost inaudibly over the spray of the shower, but he knows he can hear him with his heightened senses. “Please.”

T’Challa reaches down and grabs Bucky by the dick, and his mind blanks for a moment. T’Challa has his fist on him, and he’s pumping slowly. He thrusts into T’Challa’s hand, following his delicious, if maddening, pace with some difficulty. T’Challa tightens his grip and flicks his wrist when he gets to Bucky’s head and, if this keeps up, he’s gonna come at any moment.

He fully expects to. This is how he’s come the last few times he and T’Challa have done this. When he pulls his hand off Bucky’s dick, Bucky can’t help his low whine and the thrust of his hips into empty air. The king laughs softly into his neck before pulling back some to give Bucky a filthy kiss. His tongue is deep in Bucky’s mouth and he’s licking along every inch of it like he wants to be able to find his way around blind folded. It takes a hell of a lot for Bucky to feel winded, but T’Challa manages.

And then T’Challa is no longer there. Bucky opens his eyes and makes to protest, but then he sees the king kneeling before him, staring up at him through clumped eyelashes. He grabs Bucky by the hips, thumbs massaging the dimples there. He looks so fucking sexy, part of Bucky wishes he could pause time just to take a picture, but a bigger part of him, the part that’s flushed red and already leaking come can’t wait another fucking second for what’s about to happen.

T’Challa kisses the tip of Bucky’s cock, licking the precome from his lips before sucking the head into his mouth. Bucky can’t think. He can only watch and feel as he swallows his length, full lips stretched beautifully around him. He bobs his head back and forth, and Bucky can’t see it but he can feel T’Challa tracing intricate patterns on the underside of his dick.

Bucky wants desperately to meet T’Challa with thrusts of his own, but the hands on his hips has his pelvis firmly planted against the wall. All he can manage is a few pathetic twitches. He grabs onto T’Challa’s shoulder for purchase because he’s close again. “T’Challa,” he warns. He expects him to stand and maybe finish him off with his hand, but no, T’Challa just sucks harder.

Bucky practically growls as he comes, straight into T’Challa’s mouth. He swallows everything he has to give, restrictive hands now the only thing keeping him standing, and sucks him through the aftershocks until Bucky is pushing him away.  
He stands and smiles at Bucky. “Good?” He asks simply, grinning.

Bucky answers his question with a bruising kiss, chasing the taste of himself in T’Challa’s mouth.


End file.
